The ‘rents were in town visitin’ last week which translates into my excuse to do fun touristy stuff I don’t normally do. We went to a couple of Yankees’ games (of course)… Mom and I ate at a popular vegan restaurant (cashew spread anyone?) and then went to see “Jersey Boys” on Broadway… we booked a tour at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum (highly recommended), then pizza’ed at Lombardi’s – America’s first pizzeria.

But this is how I know I am not adopted.

After brunching on pumpkin scones at Alice’s Tea Cup we strolled south through Hell’s Kitchen, a neighborhood loaded with eateries and bars and some early NYC memories for me (rooftop party during the Black Out of 2003 – good times).

My father stops mid-stride, looks at his watch, then looks at me.

“It’s 11:50.”

“Yeah.”

“In ten more minutes we can have a beer.”

A man after my own liver. And always thinkin’ that one.

So naturally I took them to Rudy’s, arguably the grungiest dive bar in the hood (city?)… the place with the pig out front that serves free hot dogs on paper plates. It’s about as anti-tourist as you can get that close to Times Square. That is until we arrived and took our picture with the pig. But, really. It had to be done.